


in the name of peace

by ALovelyLitwit



Series: my crown is in my heart [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jesse Manes is a War Crime, M/M, Political Alliances, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, reluctant husbands to happy husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:14:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29189136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALovelyLitwit/pseuds/ALovelyLitwit
Summary: Alex must marry an alien king to prevent the end of mankind.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: my crown is in my heart [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142990
Comments: 126
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a little series I write on and off while I work on other projects. No promises on how often I'll post.

An alien invasion hadn’t been on his to-do list when Alex arrived at work that morning. He’d expected to sit down at his computer for eight hours and then go home, with little or no interruptions. Not even a meeting with his team or his CO was scheduled. Just a quiet Thursday afternoon. 

So he hadn’t been prepared, mentally or emotionally, for the high-alert, all-hands-on-deck crisis at barely 0900 hours. And Alex prides himself on always being prepared. So he is having a bad day. A very fucking bad day.

Perhaps alien invasion is a bit dramatic. Alien visitation, encounter, negotiation. Not that Alex actually knows what’s happening. He’s holding steady behind a fleet of armored HMMWVs, his team fanned out beside him, M18s at the ready. For now, their safeties are still on with fingers off the triggers. But everyone is nervous and Alex is worried about his younger airmen. 

Squinting into the sun, he tries to make out the group of people assembled beyond the line they are holding. Of course, it’s hard to focus on the congregation of humans and aliens when there’s an enormous spacecraft parked in the middle of Route 80. Gunmetal gray and blinking white lights catching the mid-morning sun. He does his best to ignore the hulking beast, narrowing his eyes at the four bodies center stage.

The human is Colonel Ramstaud. Currently the highest-ranking officer in their makeshift outfit on the old Foster’s Ranch property. Alex likes him if for no other reason than Jesse Manes fears him. 

The aliens are all dressed in white. Behind the three up front, a row of men and women hold their own line, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with backs straight and faces expressionless. They have the advantage in more ways than one -- including the simplicity of having the sun at their backs. Throw in their literal superpowers and Alex deeply understands that if violence erupts, the humans will all be dead or captured or perhaps something unimaginably worse.

A curly-haired man and a tall blond woman stand apart from everyone else. A bit removed from both the line of soldiers behind them and the man speaking with Colonel Ramstaud. Their features are muted by the glare of the sun straining his eyes. The last time they’d been visited by the Antarians had been when Alex was only a boy. Ten or eleven perhaps, he can’t quite remember. What he does remember is how humanlike they had looked, how good their English was if a little stilted.

‘Captain Alexander Manes, please step forward.’ 

Colonel Ramstaud’s commanding voice pierces through his distracted daze, but he doesn’t move, thinking perhaps he’s misheard. What could these beings possibly want with him? He tosses a quick, accusatory glance at his father on the other end of the line, but his face is contorted by his own confusion. At least that means his father hasn’t sold him into human slavery.

‘Captain Manes.’ The order is crisp and sharp, brooking no disobedience.

He steps forward, stands at attention, and salutes the Colonel. ‘Yes, Sir.’

‘At ease. Your country needs your help, son. And I’m afraid you’re not going to like it. The newly-crowned Antarian King is here to forge a peace treaty.’

One of the aliens steps forward, leading with his hips, so cocksure and unaffected by the dozens of guns trained on him. It’s the curly-haired man who might be the single most attractive person Alex has ever seen. He swallows that thought down and squares his shoulders. The spaceship blocks most of the sun now, so he’s able to look the man in the eye. 

‘Captain Manes, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’ He holds out his hand and offers Alex a lopsided grin, charming and sly. But Alex knows better than to be fooled by a pretty face. He shakes the man’s hand with one hard squeeze, saying nothing. ‘I’d like to invite you inside. Somewhere more comfortable and more private for the conversation we must have.’

Alex understands that by _inside_ what he means is the giant, armed spacecraft behind them. It would be the dumbest decision of his life to follow a strange and powerful alien into the belly of such a place and assume he’ll be able to walk out again unharmed. 

Master Sergeant Jesse Manes seems to agree. ‘Colonel, what’s the meaning of this?’ If one of them is going to be insubordinate, he’s glad it’s his ghoul of a father.

‘Step back in line, Master Sergeant. I understand your concern, but I have been assured Captain Manes is in no danger.’ He shoots Jesse a withering glare before dismissing his presence entirely. ‘Captain Manes, you must go with him. That’s an order, soldier.’

Alex looks back and forth between the Colonel and the King. His heart rate accelerates and sweat drips down the nape of his neck. He’d pledged to give his life for his country, but he thought sacrificing a leg had been sacrifice enough. Apparently not.

‘You’re safe with me, Alex. May I call you Alex?’ The King waits for a response, so Alex nods, deciding what he’s called while being led to his death hardly matters. ‘You have no reason to believe that obviously. But harming you would be an act of war. And I have no intention of sending my people or yours into a slaughter.’

The King’s face softens, or maybe it’s just the morning light playing tricks. Alex has no choice but to follow, so whatever words the man uses to lure him inside are ultimately nothing more than theater. ‘Lead the way.’ He forces a tiny, grim smile and follows him into the ship, not bothering to look back at anyone behind him. 

They enter a dimly lit hallway, black metal walls lined with austere copper light fixtures. The lack of warmth instantly sets him on edge. He’s still got his weapon, but that’s a total farce. There’s no gun on the planet that can do any real damage to the Antarian species. Not when their hands hold the power of resurrection. The idea of war with Antar is ludicrous. Earth would be annihilated in a matter of minutes. Maybe even seconds.

None of this makes any sense. Just blow up the planet and get it over with already.

‘This will do.’ The King pushes open an airlocked door and waits for Alex to enter. Everything feels like a trap. He maneuvers his hand closer to his weapon and does a quick sweep of the room before stepping inside. It looks innocent enough, a large metal table in the middle with several leather chairs situated on both sides like any ordinary conference table. Along the back wall, there’s a kitchenette, complete with a sink and what appears to be a glass refrigerator. 

Alex slides through the door sideways, watching the King’s every movement out of the corner of his eye. 

‘Water? Coffee? Tea?’ 

He shakes his head and stands behind the table, hands behind his back and eyes trained on the door.

‘You may call me Michael. That’s my Earth given name.’ He pours himself a glass of water. ‘Please sit, Captain. Anywhere you’d like.’

‘Thanks but I think I’ll remain standing.’ 

Michael sighs and sits opposite Alex, practically draping himself over the back of the black leather chair. His tunic falls open, exposing his bare chest, sun-kissed and softened with a smattering of chest hair. Mentally, Alex chides himself for staring and directs his eyes to a more innocuous point over Michael’s left shoulder. 

‘I assume you understand the Peace Accords between our two planets.’

‘I do.’

‘They expire at the end of your Earth year. Which is in six months.’ Michael sips at his water and leans forward. ‘I’m here to negotiate a new treaty. But this one won’t be as easy.’

‘Why not? We’ve been at peace for 21 years. What’s changed and what does any of this have to do with me?’ 

‘Turns out, your family has been secretly holding survivors of the Roswell crash prisoner for decades. My surveillance team hacked into some footage at a decommissioned military installation and discovered an entire operation currently being run by your father and your brother, Flint.’

Alex blinks rapidly, brain spinning. He steadies his face, stiffens his shoulders. Trying his best not to let his surprise bleed into his body language. The idea that his family has been involved in a decades-long alien coverup doesn’t seem shocking in the slightest. What does surprise him, though, is how easily they’ve kept it a secret from him. He wonders if Clay and Greg know. And then he wonders how long he’s going to be allowed to live once this interrogation ends. 

The King stands up and moves directly in front of him, leaning against the conference table, ankles crossed and only two feet away. Still cloaked in nonchalance. ‘Know anything about that, Alex?’

He hates how much he likes the sound of his name rolling off Michael’s tongue. ‘First I’m hearing of it, I’m sorry to say. But my family and I aren’t close.’

‘Yes, I’m aware.’ He presses his palms into the metal table and pushes himself up until he’s fully seated, legs swinging back and forth. Not at all the picture of a King. ‘And yet, you joined the military, same as all the rest despite your more rebellious past.’

Alex narrows his eyes. ‘How do you know about my past?’

Michael shrugs lazily. ‘Not my first trip to Roswell. You can learn just about anything in a single night at the Wild Pony. I wouldn’t have come here without doing my research. I’m sure that’s something you can respect.’

‘You’ve been spying on me.’ It’s what Alex would have done too.

‘Yes. A bit. You see, you don’t have any sisters, and so I had to figure out which of the four brothers might be open to this particular arrangement.’ Michael stares at him pointedly.

A tense silence stretches between them, the implication crystal clear. Alex’s chest tightens. ‘A marriage arrangement.’

_Fuck._

‘The prison’s name is Caulfield, the one where my people are being held captive. And one of them is my mother, Alex. My goal here with you today is to save her. To save her and to bring her home. Marrying you seems to be the only way.’

Alex feels himself wither. His hands come unclasped and his shoulders sink. It’s unprofessional as all hell, but he takes off his hat, tosses it onto the table next to Michael, and collapses into a chair. His hip aches from standing too long, rigid and uncompromising. He wants to go home, crawl into bed, and pull the covers over his head. ‘How is marriage the only way? Especially to me? I mean, I’m no one.’

Michael scoots off the table and into the chair next to him. ‘My people aren’t all that different from yours. They love and they hate. They fuck and they fight. And right now, they’re out for blood. My mother is their Queen. You kept them prisoner and now -- ‘

‘You keep me prisoner.’

‘Yes. That’s the gist of it.’

It goes without saying that if Alex leaves this room without agreeing, Earth will cease to exist. Michael’s mother with it. And the weight of all that death now lies squarely on Alex’s shoulders.

‘I wanted to do this peacefully. I could have taken your father or any of your brothers. Held them captive in our prisons back on Antar. Watched them slowly rot in little more than a cage. A show of strength, a promise to keep my people safe. But I chose differently. You’ll get to keep your freedom, Alex. Your life. You’ll be required to see me once every three months. The only real rule is that you can never marry anybody else.’

Alex glares at him and Michael’s face falls. He hates that he immediately feels guilty, that his heart aches at the expression on Michael’s face. And he knows if he asked Michael to take his father or Flint instead, he would. But there would be no peace. Flint would turn reckless and start a war. His father would be smarter, but the end results would be no different. Take both and a conspiracy is born.

‘I never really thought I’d get married anyway.’ It’s his own peace offering but also defeat.

‘Is that a yes?’ Michael looks up at him, hope brightening his eyes.

‘It’s a yes.’ Alex tries to force his words to sound less miserable than he feels and fails.

‘Hey.’ Michael slides his chair closer, placing a hand on Alex’s knee, warm and comforting. ‘I’m not a bad man, Alex. I promise. And you aren’t the only prisoner here. The rules are the same for me. Every three months and I can’t marry anyone else. I guess the difference is that I’ve always wanted to get married and have long dreamed about building a family.’

Michael doesn’t immediately remove his hand from Alex’s knee. And Alex is surprised to find that he doesn’t want him to. ‘All of this sacrifice is for your mother? A woman you’ve never met before? Because in my experience mothers are often a colossal letdown.’

‘All of this is for my people and for your people. I’m so sorry you feel that way about mothers. The vague memories I have of mine are what get me out of bed each morning.’ He pulls his hand back into his own lap. ‘May I ask one more thing of you?’

Alex snorts. ‘It’s not like I can say no.’

‘Yes, you can. This request is optional.’ Michael settles back into his chair, shifting nervously on the soft leather. Bravado now entirely vanished. ‘Try to keep an open mind about me? I know that, considering the circumstances, we’ll likely never be lovers.’ He trips over the word, recovering with a quick quirk of his lips. ‘But perhaps we can be friends. Friends who enjoy each other’s company more than four times a year. I’d very much like that.’

‘Why? I mean after what my family’s done to yours, you should hate me.’ Nothing about this day makes sense, but Michael’s attitude toward their situation makes less sense than anything else. This man should have locked his entire family in a windowless dungeon and tossed away the key. Instead, he’s practically begging for friendship. Suspicion swells in Alex’s heart. 

But then something flickers in Michael’s eye. Something Alex can’t read. He’s pretty sure Michael’s not telling him everything. It’s likely there will always be an impenetrable fortress of secrets between them. And the power imbalance isn’t lost on Alex. No matter how much Michael might try to paint them in the same powerless light, Alex knows exactly where he stands.

‘You aren’t your family. And your family kept this a secret from you which suggests they see you as someone too --’

‘Too weak.’ The words leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

Michael pauses, brows knitting together. ‘I was going to say too good, too moral, too caring to follow them down their evil fucking path. You’d have found a way to destroy them even if it had meant destroying yourself. I imagine you still plan to do that as soon as I’m off-planet. But I must implore you not to, Alex.’

‘I can’t just let them get away with what they’ve done. I don’t know how to just twiddle my thumbs while my own flesh and blood participates in unlawful imprisonment. I can _help_ you.’

‘No.’ The command in his voice startles Alex. ‘You must do as I say. We have a rescue mission already underway. Your Colonel Ramstaud will be debriefed on the plan soon, but your father and your brother must not know. You cannot risk this mission, Alex, or I’m afraid our contract will be nullified.’

‘So what am I supposed to do when I walk out of here? Act like everything’s fine? No big deal, just married to an Antarian King I never see? My father will have questions, and he won’t ask them nicely.’

‘Your father’s already too busy handling a security breach at Caulfield to bother with you or our marriage. For all intents and purposes, I selected you from a random pool of applicants, and this peace negotiation is nothing more than a simple marriage alliance. You have my word he’ll be kept too busy to so much as call you.’

A knock on the door interrupts them. Michael presses the airlock and speaks softly with the blonde woman from earlier. She’s tall enough to glare at Alex over Michael’s shoulder. Alex catches her eye and refuses to look away. She breaks eye contact first, which gives him a fleeting sense of control. 

Once she’s gone, Michael turns back to him. ‘Our time is up, I’m afraid. A car awaits us outside.’

Alex stands, grabbing his hat off the table. ‘We’re doing this now?’

‘Yes. your President has just landed in New Mexico. He’s on his way to Roswell via helicopter. We must not keep him or Earth’s other dignitaries waiting.’ He reaches out his hand, and Alex just stares at him, utterly befuddled. He thought he’d get at least a few days to wrap his head around this turn of events. But now, everything has gotten entirely too out of hand, and he’s back to wanting to crawl underneath his covers.

‘Please, Alex.’ Michael’s hand still reaches for him. ‘Marry me and we can figure out the rest later.’

Alex doesn’t take his hand, just shrugs past him and into the hallway. Shoulders tense and heart resigned. Like a prisoner being led to execution.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Michael prepare to wed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify, this is a series. So, these first three chapters are only part one. When I switch POV, I will start a new part. Much more to come!

The ride to wherever they’re going is strained but uneventful. Alex and Michael sit in the middle seats of a massive black SVU, as far apart as the bench seat will allow. Michael looks relaxed but keeps his eyes trained ahead, expression aloof. Alex tries to focus outside his window at the blur of passing desert and strip malls, but he can’t stop himself from glancing routinely at Michael through his peripheral vision. 

Colonel Ramstaud sits in front of Alex in the front passenger seat keeping up a regular rhythm of small talk with the young, nameless airman in the driver’s seat. Behind Michael and Alex are two of Michael’s unarmed guards, as expressionless and silent. Eyes also locked straight ahead, dutiful and ready for whatever danger might come to their King. 

Alex imagines discreetly unbuckling his seatbelt, opening his door, and tucking and rolling into the scrub brush. It’s a deluded fantasy but pleasant nonetheless. The idea of disappearing into the mid-afternoon sun never to be heard from again. Able to put the past behind him and remake himself into a person he might one day respect or maybe even like. In reality, he wouldn’t get any farther than unbuckling his seatbelt.

They turn onto a well-traveled dirt path, and soon a large, dilapidated warehouse comes into view. There are several dozen similar SUVs and other black vehicles scattered among news trucks and local patrol cars. The spaceship has also relocated next to a handful of helicopters with the official seal of the President of the United States stamped boldly on their sleek navy blue bodies.

Secret security agents dressed in black suits walk among the aliens dressed in white. Alex recognizes the blond woman and the tall brown-haired man who had negotiated with Colonel Ramstaud. They stand with their hands held up demanding the SVU come to a stop. ‘Who are they?’

Michael looks at him for the first time since they’d climbed into the car. ‘Max and Isobel Evans. For all intents and purposes, they are my brother and sister. My family.’ Without another word, he slides out and goes to greet them, a smile easily lighting up his features despite Max and Isobel’s thin-lipped, stern expressions.

The car continues to empty until it’s just Alex and the Colonel inside. Ramstaud turns to him as best he can in the cramped confines of the front seat. ‘Son, there’s one more thing I need to tell you. After today, you’ll be honorably discharged from the Air Force. You’ll continue to receive your full pay and benefits for as long as you live. Your country thanks you for your service.’ 

Alex feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He just stares back at the Colonel, dumbfounded.

‘I know that might come as a shock, Captain. And I want to be clear that you've done nothing wrong. You're still playing an essential role in keeping America and the world safe, but your day-to-day duties as a decorated USAF Captain are no longer in your best interests or ours. You’ll also be placed in protective custody with secret service agents assigned to you. Your sacrifices have been numerous and great, Captain Manes. Thank you.’ He salutes and then slips out of the car to rejoin his men, leaving Alex bereft and completely alone.

A numbness settles over him as he watches Michael speak animatedly with Max and Isobel. Well, speak is the wrong word since the Antarians communicate telepathically. Mostly, he watches Michael grin and gesture wildly with his hands while Max and Isobel look on without any hint of amusement. Every once in a while, Isobel will glare at him through the windshield before returning her attention back to Michael.

He’s lost. Every last shred of control he’d had concerning his life this time yesterday is completely gone. He’s jobless, about to be married to a man he doesn’t know from Adam, and blood-related to bigger monsters than he’d ever even realized. 

Clouds shift over the sun, staining the light, and the world darkens. No one else seems to notice. Alex takes several deep breaths, counting backward from five over and over again until his knuckles relax their grip on the edge of the leather seat. He gathers his emotions and swallows them down, smoothing his face into perfect blankness. The one thing he can control is himself, his own body and his own reactions. And no one gets to see Alex Manes lose his shit today. No one.

Without warning, his door opens and the dry afternoon heat slides inside. He turns his neck to find Michael looking at him, worry or maybe confusion contorting his face. Alex offers him a grim smile but startles when his seat belt suddenly unlocks. ‘What the _fuck_?’

‘Sorry. Thought maybe you were trapped and needed a hand.’ Michael reaches for him, but Alex ignores the gesture, slipping from the SVU without help.

‘I’d like to get this over with sooner rather than later if you don’t mind.’ He scans the dozens of people moving about and begins to head toward the open warehouse doors. ‘I assume we’re going to sign some papers or something inside?’ He tells himself that pretending to know what’s happening puts him in a position of, if not strength, at least something less pathetic than following Michael around like a lost puppy.

‘Actually, we’re going to do the full ceremonies. A traditional American ceremony - non-denominational. You’re welcome to look over the agenda. Don’t worry, we’re not writing our own vows.’ He smirks at Alex. ‘And then we’ll do an Antarian soul bond which I should probably explain.’

But before Michael can tell him what an Antarian soul bond entails, he’s dragged away by several fellow aliens with only a brief look of regret tossed over his shoulder. Alex sighs, frustration bubbling in his chest, and goes in search of someone who can provide him with the aforementioned agenda.

Before entering the large building, he’s patted down and forced to relinquish his gun, his pocket knife, and his phone. The warehouse he walks into has been scrubbed clean. That’s the nicest thing he can say about it. Otherwise, it’s nothing more than concrete floors and hollow, empty space. Not exactly what you imagine your wedding day to look like, although Alex has never once imagined his wedding day so he supposes this barebones warehouse is good enough. At least it’s a reprieve from the oppressive desert heat.

A smattering of secret service agents meander about, hovering near doorways and setting up a perimeter around the room. There are men in suits speaking into phones, a woman with a clipboard standing over a collection of monitors filled with the faces of men and women he doesn’t recognize, and a roped-off section in the far corner where several press teams gather, readying their cameras for the live broadcast of the ceremony. 

Two agents dressed in well-fitted suits approach him, forced smiles stretched wide. One is a tall woman, red-haired and freckle-faced. The other a black man of average build with broad shoulders. Alex feels himself tense.

‘Captain Manes? My name is Agent Darla Carver and this is my partner Agent Marcus Nova. He’s also my husband.’ She extends her hand and Alex shakes it, nodding at her husband. ‘We’ve been assigned to your protection duty for the foreseeable future and wanted to introduce ourselves as soon as possible.’

Ah, yes. He’d almost forgotten about his protective custody status. ‘I wish I could say it’s nice to meet you, but frankly, it’s shit. And despite the uniform, I’m no longer in the Air Force so you can just call me Alex.’ There’s more bite to his words than he intends, but he doesn’t really care. No one is getting an apology from him today.

Agent Nova frowns. ‘We understand all of this is overwhelming, Alex. And we’ll do our very best to stay out of your hair and fade into the background of your life.’

‘We want you to be safe. To live a long and happy life. I’m from New Mexico, but Marcus is from Antar. So we have a unique perspective of the challenges you might face going forward. We’ve purchased the house next door to yours and will be available to you at all hours of the day and night for anything you might need.’ She nods at him before they both turn and blend into the chaos.

He can feel their eyes lingering. Another thing he’ll have to accept.

A passing woman with a clipboard hands him an agenda, and he quickly scans the page. The marriage ceremony is fairly boilerplate, but the soul bond Antarian tradition has no listed details. He searches the warehouse for Michael, hoping to catch his eye and perhaps continue their earlier conversation. But he’s locked in conversation with several recognizable Heads of State so Alex sighs and heads toward the bathroom. The closeness of everyone is stifling, and he’s beginning to sweat. It’s not like anyone is paying him any attention anyway.

Locking the door behind him seems ridiculous. Anyone who wants through the flimsy wood door is getting through, but the semblance of privacy is enough that he feels free enough to take a deep breath, ease the ache in his shoulders slightly, rub at his sore thigh. Turning on the sink, he splashes cold water on his face and stares at himself in the mirror. He’s done that a lot since returning to Roswell, looking at himself until he sees his father, a monster. But today all he sees is a haggard man staring back at him, so much older than his scant twenty-eight years.

There’s a knock at the door and he jumps, reaching for the gun he no longer has on his hip. ‘I’ll be out in a minute.’ He grabs a paper towel and dries off his hands, rolling his eyes when the lock turns of its own accord and the door bursts open. He expects to see either Agent Carver or Agent Nova, maybe both. But instead, it’s Michael.

‘I was able to sneak away for a moment. We’re about to start if you’re ready. But I wanted to finish telling you about the soul bond.’ He closes but doesn’t bother locking it the way Alex had. ‘You’re protective custody doesn’t seem to like me very much.’

Alex smirks at that. Maybe they won’t be so bad after all. ‘The agenda doesn’t say much about the soul bond. Please don’t tell me we’re going to literally join our souls together or some such bullshit.’

Michael snorts. ‘I don’t even know if souls are real. Besides, the English translation is iffy at best. More accurately, it’s a psychic connection so that we never have to be apart. It can only be severed by death.’

‘So you’ll have access to my brain?’ He tosses the used paper towel into the trash bin furiously. ‘Although, I suppose you already have that, right? You’ve probably been in my head all day. Or maybe even weeks.’

‘I don’t have that ability. Not with humans. And even if I did, I wouldn’t do that.’ He sounds offended, hurt. Alex just shrugs his shoulders and lets him continue. ‘Because you aren’t Antarian, the bond will only work one way. From me to you. So you’ll be able to feel all of my emotions while I have zero access to yours. You’ll always know if I’m lying or if I’m hiding something. It should help even things out a bit.’

‘Even things out.’ Alex considers this. Michael is the king of an entire planet. He’s not sure how having access to his emotions is going to magically even things out. Even a bit. ‘That’s not possible. You’re taking my whole life from me. And all I get is the emotions of a man I don’t care about? Gee, thanks.’

He starts to turn back to the mirror, but Michael reaches for him, snagging his fingers on the buttons of Alex’s uniform jacket. One of them pulls loose and drops to the grimy tile floor. Tears prick at Alex’s eyes for no good reason as he stares down at the lost button. 

Michael swipes up the button with his powers and disappears out the door. Alex blinks blankly at the spot where he’d stood, fighting back his emotions. He’s doing a real shit job keeping himself in check. Regaining his composure, he’s just about to leave the bathroom when the door swings open to reveal a grinning Michael holding up the missing button and a paperclip. ‘I can fix it. May I?’ He gestures at Alex’s chest and the empty buttonhole.

Alex can fix his own button. He can grab the paperclip, bend it into a ‘u’ shape, stab it through the two little holes, and twist the button back into place. It won’t be regulation, of course, but what does that matter anymore? But for some foolish reason, he nods his head at Michael.

Once Michael has properly threaded the paperclip through the button, he steps forward and slips one hand beneath Alex’s jacket, fingers sliding along his thin t-shirt and knuckles dragging softly across his chest. The touch feels too heavy, too intimate. Alex holds his breath and fixes his eyes on the paper towel dispenser over Michael’s shoulder. He shouldn’t have agreed to this. He should have pushed Michael back through the door and handled this himself. What had he been thinking? Allowing this man so close to him. Every one of Michael’s breaths brushing lightly at the hair on Alex’s forehead and raising goosebumps up and down his neck, his arms. He swallows and shuts his eyes, berating himself for the easy way his body responds.

‘There.’ Michael pats his chest and steps away. ‘Maybe not good as new but good enough.’

The words _thank you_ settle on the tip of Alex’s tongue, waiting to be spoken into existence, but he can’t quite get there. He nods his head slightly and darts his eyes down to the mended button. ‘Guess we should stop hiding in the bathroom.’

‘Let’s give it another minute. Let everyone think we’re up to no good in here. There are a couple more things that need explaining about the soul bond.’

Alex rolls his eyes and leans against the counter. ‘Of course, there are.’ He really does sound like a petulant child.

Michael continues to magnanimously ignore his snark. It bothers Alex a great deal that Michael still seems entirely unbothered by what’s happening to him. To them. ‘It’s simple, really. We put our hands over each other’s hearts and think about how much we love each other and want to spend the rest of our lives together.’ He winks. ‘Piece of cake, right?’

‘So, then this will only be for show? I’m confused. You said we’d be connected.’ A headache begins to form behind Alex’s eyes. He shuts them and pinches the bridge of his nose trying to alleviate the pressure.

‘We’ll have to improvise. Hey, are you okay?’ Michael’s too-warm hand suddenly presses against his cheek. For the briefest of moments, he considers leaning into the touch and letting that unfamiliar warmth soothe him.

But only for a moment.

‘I’m fine.’ Batting Michael’s hand away, he reopens his eyes, the pain only growing stronger. ‘What do you mean by improvise?’

Michael flexes his hand almost like he intends to reach out and touch Alex again. But instead, he settles his fist at his side. ‘We’ll each have to think of the happiest moment in our lives so far or the happiest moment we could ever imagine for ourselves. Concentrate on that extremely hard and imagine pushing that feeling through your arm, into your hand, and then into my heart. Maybe it works; maybe it doesn’t. For what it’s worth, I hope it does.’

With a small, tight smile, Michael turns and leaves Alex alone in the bathroom.

Alex searches through his past for a happy moment. For something even approaching happiness. But nothing comes to mind. Even when he’s smiled and laughed with his friends. Giggled, stoned and silly with Maria. Sat on the Crashdown rooftop talking boys with Liz. Or done his best to be bros with Kyle after working through their shit. He’s always been pretending. Faking. Working overtime to keep the darkness hidden, tucked away, kept at bay so that they won’t know what hides inside him.

And he’s been lying all day. Telling himself that he’s never wanted to get married, never dreamed of getting married. What bullshit. Of course, he has. A million times, lying awake unable to sleep. Wondering what life would be like if one day someone saw him. Chose him. Loved him. His happiest moment would be if this were real. If Michael had found some impossible way to meet him and love him and want to marry him. If instead of awkwardly fixing a broken button, he’d helped Alex straighten his bowtie and kissed him deeply, threatening to bend himself over the counter and let Alex take him right here. Everyone waiting for them outside while listening to the sounds of two people loving each other to excess.

But that’s not what this is.

He looks back to the mirror and Jesse’s face returns. Everything is much clearer now. He was born a boy no one could love and built himself into a man undeserving of happiness. Because what had he done at his first real chance of escape? He’d join the military and made himself into the kind of man who pulls triggers and ends lives. Trying so desperately not to be the weak boy his father always believed him to be. To win battles instead of cowering in the corner with his hands over his head crying. 

And for that, this is his punishment.

With one last look in the mirror, Alex squares his shoulders and shifts his face into something made of stone, icy and unyielding. 

There are no happy memories. There will be no happy endings.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Michael spend their wedding night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder, this is the end of part one. But there will be more parts! I'm shifting POVs now which is why I made this a series rather than a multi-chapter fic. There will be many POVs. Next up, Maria!!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: NO ANTI-MARIA COMMENTS ALLOWED. I MEAN IT. ON ANY PART OF THIS STORY. THESE CHARACTERS ARE ALL MESSY. EVERY SINGLE ONE.

Alex sits on his shower bench and lets the hot water wash over him. He rubs at his chest and tries to concentrate on the new heaviness tightening his lungs. Their soul bond had worked, but he doesn’t know what any of it means so far. It’s just a weird breathless feeling that had made him dizzy as they stood in front of the whole world with their hands over each other’s hearts. He’s hoping the shower will help.

And he plans on taking his time, scrubbing every last inch of his body while Agent Carver and Agent Nova wait outside for him. He’s also going to shave and moisturize and do his long-form PT before packing a bag and heading back to the spaceship to spend his wedding night with Michael, his husband. He deserves a little peace and quiet to sit with things after one of the most stressful days of his life, which is really saying something.

‘Husband.’ Alex says the word out loud and listens to it echo off the tile walls, only to be swallowed by the rush of water flowing down the drain. He repeats it again and again until it no longer makes any sense. And then he laughs until he sobs.

\---

The ride back to the ship goes by too quickly. The agents drop him off and wish him a happy wedding night with half-hearted shrugs. The ship almost disappears against the blanket of night, but the standing guard of white-clad aliens contrasts starkly against the darkness. The eerie lights on the ship also cast a pale, ghostly glow into the desert.

No one even glances his way as he disappears into the belly of the ship. He has no clue where he’s supposed to go, so he just wanders aimlessly down the same hallway he’d been in earlier that day. There are no noises, no lights creeping out from beneath doorways. Unsettled, he tosses his overnight bag over his shoulder and clutches one of his crutches like it’s a baseball bat.

A door to his left swings opens and light finally bleeds into the nearly black hallway. Michael steps into his path and offers him a sideways smile. ‘You came back. I was half expecting to never see you again.’

Alex lowers the crutch, feeling silly. ‘I won’t lie and say I hadn’t considered it.’

‘Please, come inside.’ He motions Alex through the door and closes it behind him. ‘Make yourself at home. It’s your home now too.’

That strange queasiness in his chest flutters as Alex scans the room, first noting any and all exits. There seems to be only one, the door behind him. The space is large and lived in, the opposite of the conference room they’d sat in during their first meeting. There are tables covered with scattered papers, a television with more than one gaming console attached, various computers, a guitar, and even a well-loved green sofa. Clothes are also scattered about, as well as a cowboy hat and dusty boots.

It looks so human. So does Michael, dressed in softened jeans with torn knees and a once-white t-shirt that’s seen much better days. He looks normal, relaxed and at home. And if Alex is being honest with himself, Michael looks gorgeous in a way that humans rarely do, his skin sunkissed to perfection. He doesn’t know whether he’s lucky Michael’s so attractive or cursed.

‘You were expecting something different?’ 

Yes. Something stark and sleek and alien. ‘I guess so.’

‘I like Earth. I come here a lot. Your clothes are more comfortable than the scratchy shit we wear. It’s one of the reasons this treaty is so important -- for trade. We value your natural resources and your artistry. Let me help you with that.’ Michael reaches for Alex’s bag, but Alex takes a defensive step away from him.

Alex’s chest pinches, caves in like there’s a hole being dug between the cross-section of atrium and ventricle. He realizes that he’s hurt Michael. For some inexplicable reason that only makes him hold on harder to his belongings. 

‘Well, okay. It’s late. If you just want some privacy or to sleep, you can take the bed. It’s through that doorway.’ He points towards his bedroom. ‘There’s an ensuite bathroom as well. The door doesn’t have a lock, but I promise to leave you alone. Let me know if you need anything.’ Another offered sideways smile, another insistent pinch at Alex’s heart.

‘What? No. I can’t take your bed.’

Michael shrugs. ‘It’s fine. I never sleep there anyway. Most nights I just end up crashing on the couch.’

Alex doesn’t actually want to go to bed. There’s no way he’s getting any sleep tonight, but he doesn’t have any better ideas so he nods his head and starts to turn towards the bedroom. 

And that’s when his stomach growls, louder than it has any right to. 

‘Oh, fuck.’ Michael’s eyes go wide as he stares down at Alex’s stomach. ‘I’m so sorry. You haven’t eaten.’

‘No, it’s okay. I forgot too, honestly.’ He can feel what’s obviously Michael’s panic bubbling harsh in his chest. ‘I don’t need much.’ 

‘Sometimes I get caught up in whatever and forget to eat. But I should have asked you if you’d eaten, or reminded someone to feed you. Or something.’ He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging on his curls. ‘Shit, I’m really so sorry. Less than a day and I’m already failing at this husband thing.’

‘It’s fine.’ His stomach growls again, louder if that’s even possible.

Michael’s face contorts in a grimace as he grabs Alex’s wrist and pulls him across the room. ‘Anything you want. And I do mean that.’ There’s a panel in the wall sliding out, something Alex hadn’t noticed before. A screen lights up and Michael starts pressing through various menus. Alex drops his bag and his crutches onto the floor and moves closer, fascinated by the first obviously alien tech he’s seen so far other than the ship. ‘You like steak? Seems appropriate for a wedding night, right? I’ll have one too if you don’t mind me joining you.’

‘You eat steak?’ The question sounds dumb once it’s left his mouth, but there’s so much he doesn’t know and he wants to know. He really does, in spite of everything. There are a million questions he wants to ask now that the deed is done and there’s no turning back.

‘We eat whatever the food synthesizer program can make which is almost every food found on Antar or Earth.’ He swipes through several more menus and then offers the screen to Alex. ‘Choose anything you like. It might not taste exactly right, food synthesizers are a close approximation but not perfect.’ His shoulders slump. ‘I should have ordered us real food.’

Alex’s chest pinches. Another negative Michael emotion, but it’s hard to differentiate between the nuances of each individual feeling. He hates it. ‘No, actually. I like this. I mean, we don’t have these here so it’s interesting. I like tech.’ The anger he’s held onto all day has drained away, exhaustion taking its place. Now he just wants to eat and ask Michael his one million questions and pass the time as pleasantly as possible until he’s allowed to go home in the morning.

And if tonight goes well enough, maybe all the other nights will be survivable too. Maybe his life can return to some semblance of normality even if he has no job, no romantic future, and an alien husband who may never amount to more than a few awkward conversations linked together across the remainder of both their lives. His anger starts to simmer again, but he swallows it down and makes his food choices.

Once their food is ordered, Michael returns the sliding screen to its home in the wall and motions to the table next to them. ‘We can eat here if that works for you.’ He begins to gather the papers and schematics and various black and white photos covering the table’s surface.

A couple of the photographs grab Alex’s attention and he swipes them up before Michael can tuck them away. They’re grainy and colorless, but very clearly pictures of his father and his brother at what Alex assumes is Caulfield. The timestamp is only a couple of hours earlier in the evening. Another indication that Michael hasn’t been lying to him, the security breach at the prison the reason his father had disappeared from outside the spaceship. ‘This what you’re working on? The rescue? Keeping my father and brother occupied?’ He glances up at Michael who is watching him intently, brows lowered. 

‘Yes. Those are the latest images from my surveillance team. Today’s breach was staged so that we could plant trackers on your father, brother, and everyone else involved. I’m working on building a shielding device strong enough to plant a forcefield around the entire building once we make our move. That’s what all the math and schematics are for.’ He motions to the large sheets of paper he’d placed on the shelf behind him.

‘Do I get one too? A tracking device?’ It would make sense. There’s no way Michael or any of his people trust him enough to let him run free while they’re away. Assuming he won’t immediately run to his father and brother would be a terrible strategic weakness. 

Michael opens his mouth to answer, but a strange alarm interrupts them. ‘Food’s ready.’ He heads back over to the panel in the wall where they’d ordered the food and this time the wall opens to reveal two steaming plates and a couple of beers. ‘Enjoy.’

The food smells so good Alex’s stomach rumbles again. Michael grins at him and starts eating, but Alex isn’t ready to let his question go just yet. ‘Did I get a tracking device, Michael?’

Stabbing his steak with his knife, Michael nods. ‘Yes. But in my defense, you’d have done the same thing.’

Alex knows that’s true. He definitely would have. 

They eat in silence. Alex’s food turns tasteless, nothing more than fuel to quiet his stomach’s incessant complaints. His heart pounds hard and rough in his chest, the weight of Michael’s emotions pulsing alongside the rush of its beats. He drops his utensils and rubs at his breastbone, annoyed at the constant discomfort. 

‘The bond bothers you.’ Not a question. Michael’s not even looking at him, just somehow seems to know. He laughs low and hollow.

Oddly, the frustration in Michael’s words calms Alex, levels the playing field however slightly. ‘I deserve some time to adapt.’ He manages to keep most of the bite out of his own words. ‘I don’t want a secret tracker buried somewhere on my body. I’ll just find it and dig it out. Give me one to wear, and I’ll do it willingly.’ His eyes dart up to Michael’s. ‘And in return, you wear one too.’

Michael takes another bite of food, considering as he chews. ‘Deal.’ The rest of their meal passes in tranquil silence. Afterward, Michael removes the tracker from the back of Alex’s neck. ‘There’s another tracker in your wedding ring. I promise it’s the only other one.’ The bond remains calm, indicating Michael’s probably not lying. ‘I just want my mom back, so I was trying to lessen the number of variables that might hurt my chances of seeing her alive again.’

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Alex eyes him warily. ‘How did you implant that in my neck without me knowing?’

‘My telekinesis is stronger and better controlled than anyone else’s. I have a very soft touch.’ He smirks. ‘You were also incredibly easy to distract with that whole button incident.’

Heat flames Alex’s cheeks. He can’t tell if it’s from anger or something else. ‘Did you mind whammy me?’

Michael snorts. ‘Mind whammy?’

‘You know what I’m asking.’

‘No, I did not mind whammy you. I used your obvious discomfort with touch and people invading your personal space against you. The tracker’s tech makes it painless.’ He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. ‘It was a violation, yes, but one I felt was necessary.’

 _Unacceptable. Weak. You’ll never be a real Manes man._ His father’s voice echoes in the back of his head. He spent his whole life masking his emotions and this goddamn man across from him already has him figured out within a few scant hours. ‘What happens once the rescue mission is over?’ 

‘What?’ The question knocks Michael off balance and he lowers his arms, dropping his hands into his lap. 

‘What happens to me once I’m no longer necessary?’ Alex has run the various scenarios through his head a million times today. ‘I can’t imagine everyone on Antar will just be happy and shut up and stop clamoring for war. I can’t imagine that your people will be satisfied by our sham marriage. I can’t imagine that I get out of this alive.’

‘So you think I’m going to execute you? That’s who you’ve decided I am?’

‘Did you or did you not just insert a tracking device into the back of my neck without permission? Please stop feigning innocence. I haven’t decided anything which is why I’m asking. I thought that was the point of your oh-so-generous soul bond? That I could ask you questions and you would answer without lying.’

Michael sighs heavily and scrubs his hand over his face. ‘I don’t know what happens after the rescue mission. All I know is that I spend every second of every day trying to keep another war at bay. All I know is that I’m not a murderer and as long as I’m breathing, I’ll do everything in my power to keep you alive and safe and as free from this bullshit as possible. Besides, if you die, I die. That’s how the oh-so-generous soul bond works.’ He shrugs and then deflates, collapsing further into his chair, exhaustion suddenly evident in the lines around his eyes. ‘That’s the truth.’

Nothing in Alex’s chest suggests any different. He finds that even without that reassurance, he wants to believe Michael and what he’s saying. He wants to believe that Michael hasn’t chosen him for some nefarious purpose and doesn’t intend to disappear his body once his people have been returned safely. It’s a dangerous desire. Stupid, really. His father’s voice grows louder. ‘Sorry. I’m pretty sure between the two of us, I’m the only murderer here.’ He attempts a weak smile, but Michael only stares back at him confused.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

That’s not a question Alex intends to answer. Rising from his seat, he shakes his head, clearing away his father’s cruel voice and his own as well. ‘Nothing. I think I’ll head to bed now. Give you space to work.’

He turns to leave but stops abruptly when Michael’s hand slides into his, squeezing firmly to hold him in place. ‘Please don’t go. Can we just start over? Talk about something normal?’

At the flutter against his heart, Alex risks a glance down at Michael’s pleading face, noticing for the first time how like honey his eyes look in the glow from the dim lights overhead.

‘Normal?’ He’s embarrassed by the rasp in his voice so he shuts up. Michael toys with the wedding band pressed firmly on his ring finger, twirling the metal absentmindedly. It sends a shiver down Alex’s spine and he yanks his hand away.

‘Yes, normal. Things you’d ask a regular person you were trying to get to know.’ Michael raises his hand like he means to reach for him again but pauses mid-air, eyes wide and eager and begging. ‘Please, Alex. Stay and talk.’

Stay. Talk. Neither comes entirely natural to Alex, but he sits despite himself, only half-willing to admit that he wants to stay even if they just spend the next hour staring at each other in silence. There’s absolutely no need to examine that any further.

‘Ask me anything.’

‘I don’t need to. When I was at home earlier, I looked you up in the USAF database while my credentials are still active. So I learned all the obvious stuff about your time here as a kid and the basics of your life on Antar.’ He shrugs.

‘None of the things in those files say anything real about me. Ask me something real.’

‘Real?’

‘Yes. Something you’d ask someone at a bar or on a date or stuck next to on a plane.’

Alex scans the room again, eyes landing on the guitar he’d noticed earlier. ‘Do you play?’

That earns him a wide, gorgeous grin. ‘I do. Not great -- I’m self-taught. But good enough to keep up with most songs with simple chord progressions. Maybe one day we could play together at one of your open mic nights. Antar doesn’t have music really, so that’s another win in the Earth column.’

‘Right. You know about open mic nights from your spying.’

Michael’s shoulders droop. ‘I knew about them before. The Pony has long been my home away from home for as long as I can remember. I even dated Maria for a year, the last year you were overseas.’

‘Maria DeLuca?’ Alex’s chest tightens and this time he knows it’s his own emotions unrelated to Michael’s. He shakes his head. ‘She never mentioned a ‘Michael’, only a ‘Chad’.’

‘We concocted the Chad thing together to keep our history secret once I knew I’d be stepping into my crown. For her privacy, mostly.’

‘Is that why you broke up?’

‘No. She broke up with me because I wasn’t her person. But I like to believe we loved each other. Love each other still, really. Just not in a romantic kind of way. Maria’s an amazing person and she’s crazy about you.’ Another beaming smile. ‘It was her love for you that helped make choosing you easy. And hard. Complicated.’

‘She helped you spy on me. She knows -- she’s _known_ about all of this, hasn’t she?’ The rush of betrayal stings like nothing he’s ever known. Of all the people in the world, Maria is the one person he’s always been closest to. The one he loved, truly loved, above all others. His family.

Michael sharply shakes his head, voice deep and serious. The kind of voice Alex has been bowing to his whole life. The voice of a king. ‘Don’t be mad at her. She wasn’t allowed to say anything. But she wanted to. Badly. I’ve never been read for filth the way she did when she was sworn to secrecy. I put her in a terrible position. Be mad at me. Or madder at me. More mad? However English works.’ 

His stupid crooked smile returns and Alex forces himself to look away, itching to call Maria and hash this out between just the two of them. ‘Your turn to ask a question.’

Michael cants his head, considering. ‘What do you want to do now that you’re _free_ from the military?’

The way he emphasizes the word _free_ doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s true that Alex has thought about leaving the Air Force since the day he’d enlisted, but it’s also true that he’s always found a reason to re-up. A reason that was his own personal choice. Or maybe his whole life has been a lie, his sense of control nothing but an illusion. ‘I don’t know.’ He says it so softly Michael has to pitch forward to hear. 

‘Not even an idea?’

Sighing, Alex leans back in his chair. ‘In high school, I wanted to make music. But that was a long time ago. The past ten years have taught me that whatever talent I might have is incredibly limited. It would make more sense to stay in the digital security business.’

‘But it doesn’t need to make sense. Money isn’t a problem and never will be a problem. You have the extreme privilege of getting to do whatever the hell you want with your time.’ Michael reaches behind him and grabs one of the schematics off the shelf. He smooths it flat between them and pushes it closer to Alex. ‘I took the liberty of drawing this up for you.’

Nothing on the white sheet immediately makes any sense. ‘What am I looking at?’ 

‘It’s your house. And no, I didn’t break into your home to draft a blueprint. It was easy enough to find a generic one online. But I thought you might like an in-home studio. So I drew you a couple of options.’ He points to the garage. ‘One would mean converting your garage -- which you don’t seem to use for anything other than storage.’ He drags his finger through the kitchen. ‘The other would mean building an addition onto the back. You have more than enough space.’

Alex stares down at the blue boxes that shape themselves into his house. ‘I can’t afford any of this.’

‘You can, actually. But I’d build it. So, no cost.’

‘You’re the king of an entire planet and you want to take a vacation to build me a studio?’

Michael falls silent, tracing the blue lines with his finger, forehead creased. It takes him a long time to speak again. ‘I want to build us a life.’ He stretches out his hand and taps lightly on Alex’s knuckle, right above his wedding ring.

Just a whisper of a touch, but Alex feels it all the way down in his toes, all ten of them, even the ones missing. His brain screams at him to move, to run, but he fights the impulse, clenching his jaw and staying put. His eyes travel down to Michael’s mouth and he lets himself wonder what he’d taste like -- maybe the recognizable mixture of steak and beer, salty and bitter. Or something else entirely, something sweet and utterly alien.

But his own internal alarm goes off, saving him from accidentally leaning forward and solving the mystery. Taking a deep breath, he removes his hand from the table and stands up. ‘It’s late. I’m tired. And I need to take off the prosthetic before I can’t walk tomorrow.’ Without waiting for a response, he flees into the safety of Michael’s bedroom, stopping only long enough to grab his bag and his crutches.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
